Today, to go along with the ever-present drilling, my water is supposed to be off for some work they’re doing to the plumbing. Kitchen and bathroom. I say “supposed to be,” because it seems it’s still running, but I’m prepared. I have water in the tub, in the sink, containers to wash my hands, and water to drink in the fridge.
Sometimes you just have to barrel through, regardless.
Writing is like that, quite often, in fact. Things come at you, whether they take your time, or make it less comfortable. Sometimes it’s the writing itself, a tight, self-wound knot that just won’t come loose no matter how you work it. Sometimes the writing, or the tasks that come along with it, are constant drilling and no water.
But interruptions end, eventually. The water returns (let’s hope) and the workmen go home. The sticky part in your work gets de-stickified or you work around it, confident in a smarter, more savvy future self who can put the problem to rest.
The path doesn’t have to be smooth for you to take it.